Season ?: The Not So Forgotten Planet
by Escadia
Summary: Season ? Episode 3: The Doctor finds himself manipulated into another adventure, dragged down onto a planet so old, it was little more than a myth even to the Time Lords. Now lost and surrounded by danger, the Doctor has to uncover its secrets.
1. Cowboys

**Author's Note: ARGH! Finals! How I miss the days early in my college career where the end of the year was reserved for Frisbee and drunken Twister. I barely got this done XP Also, they are two cameos (at least in my head) of relatively famous people in this chapter. I 'm sure you'll be able to guess who...**

The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS and took a deep breath, his nose wrinkling slightly at the smell. It was hot. Not hot in a 'Hey, want to go to the beach' sort of way, but the kind of heat better suited for slow cooking a roast, the kind that sapped away all of someone's energy and gave them heat stroke in the shade.

The TARDIS was parked on the outer stretches of a wooden boom town. A dusty road meandered through the center, fenced in on both sides by a series of interconnecting porches, forming a raised walkway. People walked slowly, trying to preserve their energy, hiding from the beating sun beneath the porches' roofs. A sluggish breeze kicked up mud, but did nothing to relieve the heat, simply churning up the air with dirt to sting a passerby's eyes.

It was, to say the least, thoroughly unpleasant.

That didn't stop Dad from wearing his delighted grin.

Jenny stepped out of the blue box behind him, looking around with a great deal less enthusiasm.

"Marvelous," he declared.

"That wasn't really the word I was thinking of," Jenny answered, squinting her eyes against the bright sun. "Where are we?"

"America."

"Why?"

"Well, you said that you wanted to learn about Earth. Britain is important, of course, but there's no denying that America is one of the most influential countries in history." He glanced around and started down a sidewalk. "America is big, you see, much bigger than little Britain. I mean, it's an island versus half of an entire continent. And powerful. It probably provides half of the United Nations muscle. Or at least it will. For a bit. Then they'll have the second civil war. The first was bad enough, North versus South, all because the South didn't want to follow certain laws the North was passing. The second war was nasty though, split the country in two for a while. The United States of North-East America and the United States of North-West America. A little ridiculous, all in all, but it pretty much took them out of the equation for about a hundred years. They finally reunited, probably after they realized how stupid it was to have a donkey or an elephant on your flag, and joined the space race. Second one of that too, several of the big countries trying to be the first to establish a colony off world. America joined late but managed to win. They have a habit of doing that in races. Even sent the first ship outside of the solar system. Well, okay, second ship, but they first ship that was supposed to. China had a ship that got knocked off course, but everyone on board died of starvation, so that one generally isn't counted.

"But what's really important about America is influence. Even in thousands of years, long after Earth has been abandoned and the country is no more, you'll still be able to see what they did. If you want to get to know humans, you have to get to know their biggest influences. And America is definitely one of the biggest."

"And America is like this?" Jenny asked, still looking thoroughly unimpressed.

"Well, no, of course not. America is very different depending where and when you are, but this here, this is the spirit of the America. We are in," he raised his hands dramatically, "the Wild West."

"The what?"

"The Wild West. America will eventually go from the eastern shore to the western shore, but they didn't start that way. They expanded westward, using nothing but the grit of their teeth and the dreams of a better life. That's why they have so much influence, you know. They had such dreams and the determination to make those dreams come true. And the willingness to take it by any means necessary, including committing several atrocities that I would stop if they weren't fixed points in time. But it's probably best to focus on the good stuff." He grinned at her. "So, what do you think?"

"There's poop on the ground."

"Okay, not exactly the reaction I was hoping for. There aren't many motor vehicles around here, except for a couple of trains, so horses are the primary source of transportation. And, well, they are animals."

"There's a lot of poop on the ground," she said, nodding toward the dirt road.

He glanced over his shoulder. "Oh. Yes, well, probably a cattle drive. It was one of their primary sources of income, raise a bunch of cows off west and drive them back east. Cows tend to be rather rude animals. Okay, I suppose that these cows probably aren't, they're just animals. But they descendents, well, okay, their descendents, descendents, descendents, descendents, descendents, descendents, descendents, descendents, descendents, descendents, descendents, descendents, descendents," he caught Jenny's gaze and coughed. "Anyway, yes, they certainly be rather boorish. And loud. Always going on about how strong they are and how shiny their horns are. And their curd. Well, okay, they might not talk a lot about that last one. I think that bull in particular had some brain damage. Ran into a wall back when he was a professional bull fighter. Still an ongoing sport, I might add. Not quite as vicious, though." He looked around. "Look, a saloon." He gave her a childish grin. "Want to go in?"

"It's across the street."

"So?"

"It's across the street," Jenny repeated with exasperation. "I just got these clothes, I don't want to ruin them."

Dad surged across the street with enthusiasm. Jenny looked at the piles laying on the ground and the mud swirling in lazy tornados then down at her rather stylish outfit (no matter what her father said about it). With a long suffering sigh, she started picking her way after him. The sun was torturous and she almost got killed by some sort of horse drawn wagon. By the time she had reached the other side, Dad had disappeared behind a swinging gate thing in the doorway. She pressed her way through them.

Every eye in the saloon was on her. In all honesty, part of the reason she had chosen her outfit was its power to draw attention. She had already spent one life, albeit a rather short one, being soldier girl. It was finally time to let loose a bit and have fun. Besides, it was funny to see him scramble when the boys looked.

This time, however, it made her a bit uncomfortable. The surrounding crowd of men wasn't really what she had in mind when she thought about attracting attention. They were dirty and scarred and smelly. And old. Really old. Maybe not Dad old, but still old.

She hurried over to Dad, who was talking animatedly with a man standing behind the counter.

"You want a drink or not?" the man asked shortly, cutting him off.

"Well, okay, I suppose," Dad said, sounding slightly offended. "How about a whisky?"

The man looked at Jenny pointedly.

"What's whisky?" she asked Dad quietly.

"A drink," he answered her. "You're probably too young for it."

"Am not," she protested immediately.

Dad studied her for a moment. "Alright, two whiskies."

The man delivered placed two small, none to clean glasses on the counter. He filled them with an amber liquid from a dark bottle. Dad grabbed one, Jenny, feeling slightly suspicious, grabbed the other. He raised it to her before tipping in back and emptying it in one gulp. She did the same.

And immediately dissolved into coughing so hard that it drove her to her knees. It tasted vile and burned the entire way down.

"You okay?" Dad asked.

"Yes," she lied, trying to stifle another cough.

"Want another one?"

She shook her head.

"Sure."

She nodded.

"Good. You're too young for it."

She didn't dignify that with an answer.

"To be honest, I've never been much of a whisky man. I used to drink wine, not lately though. I have to admit though, that was pretty good. A second, please."

The floor was dirty. It bothered Jenny, because she was sitting on it, her back braced against the counter. It was comfortable, though.

"You sure you're okay?"

"The room is spinning," she informed him.

There was an amused snort from above. "I never figured you were that much of a lightweight."

"I'm not a lightweight," she protested weakly. "I'm way heavy."

"This coming from a girl who kept thinking I was saying she was fat."

"I'm not fat. Heavy, completely different."

"Uh-huh."

"You're laughing at," it took her a moment to find correct word, "me."

"Yes, I am."

"That's not nice."

Jenny tried focusing her attention on a nearby stool, except it kept moving slightly. Every time she tried, it seemed to slide to one side.

"You ain't from around here," an unfamiliar voice said nearby. At least, that's what she though it said. She was having trouble keeping track of things and she had never heard an accent like it before. It was low and seemed to drag in strange places.

"No, we're not," Dad answered.

"You a Englishman?"

"No, not really. A bit farther away, but I've certainly spent enough time there."

"What brings a gentleman like you all the way out here?"

Jenny redoubled her efforts to focus on the voice. Even with everything being as… fuzzy as they were being, she could recognize the contempt and challenge in the strangers tone. Dad, of course, kept talking obliviously.

"Hardly a gentleman. Well, okay, maybe technically, in some parts, at some points. Besides the point, really. I'm just visiting."

"Visiting? Ain't no vacation spot."

"Vacation? You know, I don't know if I've really ever taken one of those before. I mean, I've tried, but they usually end up involving running and screaming. And bleeding. And explosions. And there was this one time with a dragon."

"You trying to be funny?"

"In this case, actually, no. It wasn't really a dragon, but I'm at a loss of what else to call a flying, fire breathing lizard that tries to eat you."

"You stole its ham," Jenny managed weakly.

"Your lady friend seems to be having a bit of trouble."

"My daughter thought she was old enough to try alcohol. Apparently, she was wrong."

The stranger laughed. "Your daughter? Really?" There were several clunks of heavy boots as he walked over, and Jenny was suddenly treated to a sight of the speaker. He was ugly. At least, she though he was. It was hard to tell with the way he kept swaying. She suddenly realized her nose had stopped working, which was probably a good thing. He grabbed her elbow and pulled her to her feet. "Tell me, how much the Englishman paying you to call him 'Daddy'?"

"Paying?" Jenny asked, frowning slightly.

"Let go of my daughter's arm," Dad said quietly. His voice had dropped into it low, serious tone. The stranger picked up on it and his grip tightened.

"Or what?"

"You really don't want to annoy me," Dad continued.

The stranger laughed again. "I bet I can pay better than him," he said to her. "Better in bed, too."

"What?" Jenny floundered.

"I gotta admit, never seen a whoring outfit like this before. I think I like it."

Things clicked sluggishly in her head, and she let out a snort of disgust. "I'm not a whore," she said, trying to tug her arm free and failing.

Dad stood up, turning to face the man full on, his eyes glinting dangerously. It was odd, the entire room was still swaying, but he was standing perfectly still. "I am not going to repeat myself. Let go."

Jenny didn't even register the movement before the stranger's gun was already rising.

"Baldwin!" a new voice snapped from the entrance.

Baldwin froze, his arm half raised. "Sherriff," he said, with an innocent tone of voice.

The Sherriff brown coat swayed as he approached. He was, by far, more pleasant to look than Baldwin. "I believe we've had a talk about you starting fights in my saloon."

"Ain't your saloon, Sherriff."

"My town, my saloon. Man says she his daughter, then she's his daughter. So let go."

Baldwin snorted. "Ain't no way any self respecting man would let his daughter out dressed like this."

"Trust me, I've tried," Dad said, his voice still dark. "She seems to have inherited my stubborn streak."

"Sides, he's too young to be her pa," Baldwin continued.

"Doesn't matter," the Sherriff cut him off. "Let go and ride out of town."

"You can't do that. I'm a law abiding citizen."

"The day you're a law abiding citizen is the day my granny rises from the grave. Leave."

Baldwin shifted his eyes from Jenny, Dad, and the Sherriff. Finally, he let out a grunt and released her. Her knees promptly decided to go flying in to different directions, but Dad managed to grab her before she hit the ground. He helped her into a stool as Baldwin stormed out.

"He brings up a good point," the Sherriff said, approaching the counter. "You two are a bit close in age to be father and daughter."

Jenny managed to prop herself up with her elbows. The saloon was still fuzzy, if not quite moving anymore. A slow pounding was building behind her temple.

"I'm older than I look," Dad assured him, his voice returning to its usual lightheartedness.

"Here." The Sherriff handed her a metal container. "Water will help." She drank it eagerly. The Sherriff returned his gaze to Dad. "As poor as it was, welcome Mister-" He paused.

"Yes, hello," Dad said with a grinned, extending a hand. "I'm the Doctor."

"There a name to go with that?"

"That is my name."

The Sherriff's eyes narrowed slightly. "I have myself a theory about men who don't use their real names, Doctor. I hope I didn't just make my life harder for no reason."

"I mean no harm, promise."

"I'm gonna hold you to that, Doctor," the Sherriff answered, taking Dad's hand. "I'm Joe Malcolms. Am I to assume that blue box on the outskirts of town is yours?"

"Yes." Dad gave him an impressed look. "I'm surprised you noticed it."

"I'm the Sherriff. I know every building in my town, so I ain't going to miss a new shed popping up, especially painted that color."

"None the less, it's very impressive."

The gate swung open again. "Sherriff," a hassled looking man said. "Father O'Boyle is reporting some vandals up at the church."

Jenny handed the water back to him as he sighed. "Just one day, I'd like to be able to relax. It'd be best, Doctor, if you didn't start anymore fights."

"Cross my heart."

Things still seemed off, but for the most part, Jenny found herself back to normal. She glanced at the glasses in front of Dad. "You had six of them?"

"Hmm? Yes."

"How are you not on the floor?"

"Alcohol isn't that hard to metabolize if you know what you're doing."

"You mean we can avoid feeling like that?"

"Sure. What, you didn't like it?"

She shook her head.

The man behind the counter suddenly put a parcel down on the counter, causing Jenny to jump slightly.

"What's this?" Dad asked.

"I was told to give this to a Doctor with a blue box," the man answered with a grunt. "Figured that was you."

"Like post?"

The man shrugged and walked off.

"I never get post," Dad said, the childish grin back on his face and his eyes full of curiosity. He tore off the paper to reveal an old leather bound book. The cover was blank and it was kept shut by a small belt with a dull brass buckle. Tucked between the belt and front cover and a folded piece of paper.

Dad pulled it out and flipped it open. The smiled dropped off of his face and was replaced by a scowl.

"What's it say?" Jenny asked.

"Hello Sweetie."


	2. Mercenaries

**Author's Note: So tired. So friggen tired. Two papers and two finals... All in one day. I was up to 3 am last night, and when I finally got home and 7pm, and still had to finish this chapter. I'm going to go and collapse now... So please forgive any typos, I'll get them soon...**

Violet was a mousy young girl. It probably wasn't a great thing to admit about yourself, but she had never seen much point in lying about it. She was short, with flat brown hair she had tried unsuccessfully to curl and the kind of round face that couldn't be anything but plain. And, on top of it all, she was a worrier.

She worried about her friends, about whether they were really her friends, about her thesis paper, about the maths test from her Advanced Spatial Reasoning lecture she had taken before the trip. She worried about the rent on her flat, the stove, the rug, even the tile in the bath. She worried that her fiancé was lonely, that he was cheating on her, that she didn't deserve him, that it was all just a cosmic joke for a girl like her to even end up with a boy who liked her.

She even worried that she worried too much. They were, after all, silly worries and she did everything she could to ignore them. She worried about that too.

Right now, however, she felt her worries were quite valid. She stared across the crowded cargo bay at the company at the small company of mercenaries who were cleaning their guns, the exact same way they had been for the last three days. She worried that they would get bored and start doing terrible things, and that if one of the bullets breached the outer hall, she would be sucked out into space.

"You're staring."

Violet flinched slightly and directed her attention back to her teacher, a blush climbing into her cheeks. Professor River Song was everything Violet wanted to be. She was beautiful, with graceful blond curls that feel down to frame her face, the same kind of curls Violet had tried to copy, worried about, and eventually failed at. She was confident, intelligent, and though it would embarrass Violet to admit it, downright alluring. She was the kind of woman that wasn't just shrouded with mystery like a cape, but she used it to get what she wanted.

Violet had heard rumors about Professor Song's past, mostly from some of her other professors. Stories about murder and jail, but of all the things Violet worried about, she never gave them a second thought. Professor Song was amazing, enough so that she had caused Violet to change her entire life. She went from a girl focused mostly in the 'pure' sciences, especially Astrophysics, to a consumed history buff. She had taken Professor Song's History of Ancient Space Faring Cultures as a forced elective. Now, after only a semester, she had rearranged her entire schedule for the following two years.

She could still remember the first class, seeing pictures of those beautiful archeological sites while Professor Song had talked about what they were and what they represented. It had been inspiring, to the point that she stayed after they were dismissed to ask dozens of questions. And it wasn't just that class. Soon, Violet had found herself following Professor Song around, constantly asking for more. She worried that she was being annoying, but Professor Song seemed to enjoy her company. When she said she had found funding for an expedition after the year ended, and wondered if Violet wanted to go, the small girl had almost fainted.

That had been a month ago. They had 'taken off' just over a week ago, in what was probably the most beautiful ship Violet had ever seen. Professor Song, however, didn't seem particularly impressed in the least, so Violet had done her best to copy her. She worried that she hurt the crew's feelings and that they could tell she was faking.

Two days later, they had arrived the Galactic Core, a place very few ships went. And not just the outer reaches where, even despite the high levels of radiation and density of star clusters, ships could still travel with relatively few problems, but near the very center. Here, left over debris from destroyed solar systems, thousands of stars and thousand more dead stars, the gravity would tear most ships to shreds. Their ship, the _Recovery_, had been specially designed to travel here, but it had been slow.

Violet had spent the following the following four days worrying that the ship would get dragged into the supermassive black hole in the very center of the galaxy, despite assurances from several people that they were still much too far out to be affected by its gravity.

When they had finally reached the orbit of their destination, Professor Song told them to wait. So, here they sat, with all their equipment ready, waiting.

Sometimes, Professor Song confused Violet.

The Professor was busying herself with something on her tablet, maybe writing a book or something. Probably not, but Violet would love to read one if she did. She had known what her student had been doing without even looking up.

"I'm sorry," Violet whispered.

"I understand you're nervous, but you don't need to be rude," Professor Song said, smiling slightly, but not looking up from her tablet.

"Aren't you worried?" Violet asked, scooting carefully across the large case she was sitting on, worrying she might break the equipment inside.

"About them?"

"Yes."

"Of course not."

"But they're mercenaries."

"Yes, mercenaries hired to protect us. So long as they're paid, they're loyal. And they've been paid."

"But wait if they change their mind."

Professor Song glanced up from her tablet for a moment, an amused look on her face. "Violet, you've watched too many vids. They're professionals, very highly recommended. They aren't going to break a deal."

Violet began to fiddle with a necklace around her neck. It had been a gift from her fiancé before she left. She hoped it didn't mean something bad. "But why do we need them? Is it going to be dangerous?"

"Maybe." Professor Song pressed something on her tablet. "No one's been here in almost two hundred billion years. There aren't many records about it left."

"You don't know what's down there?"

"I have theories, but it's always best to play it safe."

Violet kept playing with her necklace. Minutes stretched on in silence, and her mind returned to her worries about home. "Professor Song?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you have anyone special?"

Professor Song put the tablet down and looked up at her. "Why do you ask?"

Violet hesitated. "I was just thinking."

"About Oliver?"

Violet nodded.

Professor Song didn't say anything. She stared at Violet, but it felt like her eyes couldn't see the girl. Violet began to worry she had crossed a line. "Yes," Professor Song said finally.

"What's he like?"

She actually snorted at that. "Aggravating." She paused. "But calming. He's the opposite of me in every way, but also exactly the same. He's smart but ever so thick. He's amazing." Another paused. "And absolutely terrifying."

"He sounds," Violet hesitated, "complicated."

That drew an actual laugh from Professor Song, and Violet couldn't help but feel a little happy. Professor Song always seemed amused, but she almost never actually laughed. "Very complicated," she agreed.

"Professor Song!" a voice rang out across the mostly quiet cargo hold. Violet gave a small, involuntary twitch. Professor Song stood up slowly, turning to face the large, middle aged man striding toward them. He was a big man, the kind of man whose muscles rippled under his suit, and still had most of a head of sand blond hair. In fact, the only real sign of his age were the frown lines that etched his face.

"Mr. Hamilton," she said with a small grin. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Luis Hamilton bristled at her comment. "Professor Song, perhaps you can answer a couple of questions for me."

"A sometimes unfortunate duty of a teacher, but if you wish, ask away."

"Do you remember who is funding this expedition? Who paid for to build the most advanced space ship ever, who crewed said space ship, who provided the equipment for the expedition, who hired muscle to help you out should anything goes wrong. Do you know who that person is?"

"Well, I do believe that would be you, Mr. Hamilton."

"Then can you explain to me why we have sat in orbit of the very planet we are here to explore for three days!" he snarled.

Violet was cringing, trying to make herself smaller behind a crate. Professor Song was standing in front of him calmly, as if they were only discussing the weather.

"Do you know what's down there, Mr. Hamilton?"

"No."

"Neither do I."

"Which I believe is the point of the entire trip!" Hamilton snarled again. "To find out."

A noise tugged at Violet's ears. She glanced around. The entire cargo was still, except for the mercenaries, who had inched closer, listening with distant interest.

"Perhaps. But if that's planet is the one I think it is, it's going to be dangerous. There are going to be traps and defenses."

"Hence, the mercenaries!"

Another noise tugged at Violet's hearing. Curiosity overcame her anxiety, and she poked her head above her hiding place to look for the source.

"We're not talking about simple traps, Mr. Hamilton," Professor Song said, her voice still calm. "No 'Just avoid the pressure plates' or 'Jehovah starts with an I' puzzles. Most likely, they're going to be high advanced and involving solving problems far beyond just archeology. I'm good, but even I'll need help."

"Help! From who? That little student of yours?"

"He'll meet us here."

The noise was getting louder. Violet got her feet underneath her and kept searching.

"You mean you waiting for someone else!" Hamilton roared. "For heaven's sake, I thought you were smart! We deeper in the galactic core than anyone has ever been! How the hell is someone supposed to meet you here? What, is he going to appear out of the ethos?"

"Yes."

Finally, it was too much to bear. Violet turned to look at Professor Song and Hamilton. "Um, excuse me?"

"What!" Hamilton screamed, almost biting the word off. His face was beat red and his eyes were furious. She flinched. A flicker of annoyance crossed Professor Songs.

Violet cowered for a moment. They were all looking at her now, and thinking she was an idiot most likely, so she had to say something. Blushing, she managed to mumble out, "Don't you hear that noise?"

Hamilton blinked, and started looking around. So did the mercenaries. Professor Song just smiled.

A sudden wind blew up, and for a heartbeat, Violet was worried that the out hull had indeed been breached. The noise grew even louder She tracked it to a single light, flaring up out of nowhere, floating. The light began to fade, as did the sound, till suddenly both flare up again. This time, the light wasn't floating. She could just barely see the outlines of a structure underneath it. Again they started to fade, before come back with another swelling noise. Now she could see it was a box, a blue box. But it was hazy and insubstantial, barely even there. The entire box started to fade out with the light.

Again, the light flared, and the blue box returned in full force. Suddenly, it was solid, with bright blue paint that seemed to glow of its own regard, and a blazing white crest on the door. The wheezing sound stopped and there was a loud hollow clicking.

Violet glanced back. Hamilton eyes were bulging out of his head. The mercenaries were doing their best to look unimpressed, although only one was actually pulling it off, and barely at that. Professor Song was smiling. Violet was taken slightly aback. It wasn't a smile she had seen before. It was happy. And excited. And mischievous. And something else that she wasn't sure she recognized on her Professor's face.

She returned her gaze to the box. It had small windows and the words 'Police Box' running across the top. Suddenly the door swung open and an annoyed looking man stepped out. He was… young. About average height, with short, black hair, and pale eyes, dressed in a dark shirt over a white one. He had some sort of book tucked under his arm.

"River," he said, scowling.

"Hello sweetie."

"Don't you 'hello sweetie' me. You already did." He waved a note at her. Then he hefted the book up. "River, this is the Tome of Kailum!"

"Yes, I know," Professor Song said, sounding both amused and pleased with herself.

The doors behind the man opened and a young woman stepped out. She was slightly shorter than the man, with gleaming dark brown hair. She moved gracefully, looking around curiously. Violet blushed a little. She wasn't wearing much, little more than a white tube top and skinny jeans. She also wore a pinstriped vest that looked a couple of sizes too big for her.

"River, I'm not helping you find the Lost Planet of Kailum," the man continued, apparently oblivious to the girl behind him. "That place was lost for a reason, stricken from the history so people wouldn't even try. I'm not going to go off on some stupid, life threaten adventure to find it just to feed your desire to explore. The kinds of dangers-"

"We've already found it," Professor Song said calmly, undercutting the man tirade.

"-that we'd fa-uh, wait. Okay, what?" he stumbled.

"We're in orbit."

"Oh."

Professor Song smiled again. She looked away from the man at the girl. "Hello Jenny."

Jenny frowned and drew herself behind the man, as if hiding. "How does she know my name?" she asked softly.

The man grumbled for a moment. "Jenny, this is River," he said, stepping aside slightly. "River, Jenny." He looked at the girl. "River and I know each other, but we don't exactly meet in the right order. Just because you've never met her doesn't mean she hasn't met you."

"Oh." Jenny studied Professor Song, her eyes still cautious, but with a new spark of curiosity.

"Wait, okay, wait," the man said, placing one thumb between his eyes. "Okay, we're orbiting Kailum, the Forgotten Planet of the Gods. Where exactly is that?"

"Galactic core," Professor Song said. "About two thousand light years from the gravitation pull of the supermassive black hole at the center. Due to a couple of hiccups in the gravity due to several of the stars and fields around, the system is under very few tidal stressors."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"That doesn't make sense. I suppose there could be fleeting moment where something like that was the case, but to keep a planet safe like that for any length of time would be impossible." He paused. "No. Nope. River, even my people told stories about this place. It so old, even the Time Lords thought it was a legend. There's dangerous, there's risky, and there's suicidal. There is no reason to go down there."

"Really?" Professor Song's smile was almost wicked. "You're not curious."

"Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. I'm not letting you manipulate me into this one. It's been there for billions of years. It can wait for another billion for all I care."

"Alright," Professor Song said with a little sigh. "If you don't want too." She turned and started to gather up her tablet. "I mean, I would have thought you'd want to know. They say the people on Kailum had technology that was greaten then even the Time Lords, at least before they all disappeared. And that would be back before Gallifrey even had life. I would have thought you'd really want to learn about them."

The man was scowling again.

She glanced back at him. "Well, go on. Back into the TARDIS so you can gallivant off on some other adventure."

The man gave a defeated little sigh. "I hate you, River Song."

She grinned again. "No, you don't."


	3. Ruins

**Author's Note: I don't have an excuse this week. When I don't have enough time in the day to do anything, I have no problem getting time to write. Then when I have absolutely nothing to do for the week, I wait till two hours before the end of that Tuesday... And end up publishing it an hour late. Why? You'd think, switching over into a psych major, I'd know the answer to that question. Point it, yes, another first draft chapter, so they'll be typos. I haven't had a chance to get any fresh pairs of eyes on any of these chapters to edit them for me... I'll add it to the list. Item 1: Start a list.**

Professor Song started everybody moving immediately. She didn't need to bark orders or shout, she simply told everyone what to do, and they did it. Violet hurried back to where she had been sitting and fished out her E-vo suit from a nearby crate. Professor Song followed at what Violet could only describe as a saunter.

She was confused. She had seen her teacher act in interesting ways to get what she wanted, but now, she seemed to be almost taking child-like delight in it.

"How exactly are we getting down?" the man asked, following slightly behind. "I have no intention of letting everyone pile into the TARDIS."

"We have a shuttle, sweetie," Professor Song assured him.

The man stopped for a moment and said something to Jenny. She hurried back to the blue box while he joined Violet and her teacher. Hamilton joined them, carrying an E-vo suit of his own.

"How exactly are you?" he demanded of the man.

"Me? I'm the Doctor. Who are you?"

"Luis Hamilton," he said between clenched teeth. "I bank rolled this expedition."

"Really?" The strange doctor looked at Professor Song. "Why is it you always get the rich men who insisting on tagging along on these expeditions?"

She grinned. "They never seem to trust me."

"Oh, fancy that."

"Doctor who, exactly?" Hamilton interrupted as he began to turn red again.

"Just the Doctor."

"That's it. No name."  
>"That is my name."<p>

"No, it's a job."

"And a name."

"Professor Song," Hamilton snarled, whipping around. "What is his name?"

"The Doctor."

Hamilton glowered at her. She and the Doctor traded amused glances.

"So what are you doctor of," Hamilton asked after a few moment of fuming.

"Everything."

"You can't be a doctor of everything."

"Why not?"

"Because," he sputtered, "you can't!"

"Everything you can be a doctor of, I am. Except maybe surgery. I know how, mind you, but the hands aren't as steady as they used to be. Old age," He tapped Hamilton on the shoulder, "you understand."

Violet couldn't help but notice the vein bulging out of Hamilton's temple as she finished fastening her suit. She slipped the communicator in place on the side of neck, flinching as the psychic anchor connected. It felt like a large needle and always made her worry about brain damage.

"Besides," the Doctor continued, "I've never been much for bedside manner. Not enough patience."

Jenny appeared suddenly, carrying what looked like two bright orange E-vo suits. They looked a bit primitive. She handed one to the Doctor before she started climbing into her own.

"So why the Wild West?" The Doctor asked suddenly as he began to put his own suit on.

"Variety," Professor Song answered. "It can't always be cliff faces and psychic notes."

"Ah yes, cliff faces. I never did get around to asking you why there. I mean, defacing a cliff of pure diamond like that in a dead language, honestly."

"Made sense. I wrote my doctorate about those writings."

"Stable time loops for the win."

She grinned at him.

The shuttle was cramped. Violet found herself stuffed between Jenny and a mercenary who looked like he'd lost an ear in a fight. She did her best to make herself as small as possible.

Professor Song settled down comfortable, between Hamilton and another mercenary, who looked relatively normal, save for a severe set of frown lines. Or scowling lines, because that's what he was doing. Professor Song pulled a small blue book out of her suits satchel and started flipping through the pages.

The book didn't surprise Violet. Professor Song had several books, actual bound paper books, all relics of a bygone age. No, what surprised her is that the Doctor settled down across from Professor Song and pulled out an identical book.

"So, where are we?" Professor Song asked. "Early still?"

"Relatively," the Doctor answered.

"I'll admit, I'm surprised to see you."

"Really? You were expecting someone else."

"Kind of. I'm surprised to see you, you. The older you. Last time we met, you were so young."

"That would have been the _Byzantium_, right?"

"That was early for you."

The Doctor grinned. "Very early."

"Have we're done the Pandorica, of course. And Jim the Fish on Easter Island."

"Oh, Jim the Fish, who could forget him. Annoying little thing, but you don't meet many psychic, talking fish in the universe."

"Does he ever finish that dam?"

"Surprising yes. Well built too, when you remember he was just using his fins." The Doctor frowned. "He did not like my bow tie."

"Did anyone like your bow tie?" Jenny called.

"It wasn't that bad," the Doctor protested. "It fit me very well, I'll have you know."

"I liked it," Professor Song agreed.

He held one hand out, palm up, as if showing proof.

"It was very dapper."

"See, dap- Wait, dapper?"

Violet wouldn't call the noise her teacher made a giggle, but it was far closer to one than she had ever heard before.

"It was better than the fez," Professor Song continued.

"Oh, the fez," the Doctor said, as if recalling fond memories.

"Don't even. I don't want to shoot another one of those."

"You could always leave it alone. It was a fez. Fezzes are marvelous."

"Oh, not a chance in hell."

"What's a fez?" Jenny asked.

"Don't get him started," Professor Song warned her.

"Well, okay, a fez is-"

"No," Professor Song said. She flipped a couple of page in the blue book. "Have we done Stormcage yet?" she asked quickly.

"Stormcage?" The Doctor flipped through the pages of his blue book for a moment. "No, not yet. Wait, Stormcage. Stromcage. Isn't that where you were locked up? What in the world we be doing there?"

"Spoilers."

"That's ever so annoying, you know."

She grinned at him again. "I know."

"You know, one day this'll be flipped, and I'm so getting you back."

The shuttle shook as they entered the atmosphere.

The Doctor closed his book and slipped it into a bag. "How exactly did you find Kailum?"

"I'm an archeologist, dear, it's what I do."

He snorted. "I don't know why you insist on identifying yourself with that lot. They're mostly wrong. You seen enough of the past to know that archeologists are only right, what, three out of every ten times."

"The fun isn't in the knowing, sweetie, it's in figuring out the puzzle. Sure, I could ask you to pop back and show me, but that's boring. Have you read the tome yet? It explains a lot of it."

"I glanced at it. How did you come across that?"

"A girl has to have some secrets."

The Doctor shook his head. "River, you're nothing but secrets."

"Like I said, the fun is figuring out the puzzle." She paused. "Is this the first adventure together since the last time you regenerated?"

"What clued you in?"

"I'm not used to Jenny not recognizing me."

"I'm sure she'll get used to you."

"I know she'll get used to me."

"I'm right here, you know," Jenny called over the flaring of the landing thrusters. "I can hear everything you're saying."

"I know, dear," Professor Song answered.

The planet was a ruin. They had known that much going in. It was orbiting a Red Dwarf, and an old one at that. Although the way gravity fields around them fell prevented much stress on the planet itself, it had drifted far closer to the star than its original orbit could have been. Or, at least, what its orbit had to have been to support life. Red Dwarfs, despites their small size, were also usually the most eruptive on small scales. The planet was bathed in heat from solar flares on a regular basis, though the towering pillars of flame weren't close enough to actually strike the planet. Couple that with the frenzied magnetic fields that caused the flares in the first place, and it was unsurprising the planet was wrecked.

Violet worried that she could feel the heat through her suit. She's couldn't, she knew it was impossible, for any flaw in the suit would result in her combusting. That didn't stop the sweat from gathering between her should blades and across her chest.

"We can't stay out here long," Professor Song told the mercenaries as they unloaded the equipment. "The shuttle's heat shielding is more than enough to withstand this, but I don't want to stress our suits anymore than we have too."

"We know, ma'am," one of the mercenaries said.

Violet glanced around. She had been expecting ruined buildings or jagged outcroppings. Instead, what she got were trees. Or, rocks that had once been trees before heat and time and turned them petrified and shattered husks.

Professor Song led the way, followed closely by the Doctor and Hamilton. The mercenaries carried the equipment. Violet worried that they would find such a duty demeaning, but they didn't seem to mind. Jenny, she noticed, helped. Violet found herself tagging along like a lost puppy. That's probably what they thought she was anyway.

It wasn't a long walk, but Violet felt like it was getting hotter. She kept assuring herself it was just her imagination, but it didn't help. The scenery around them changed subtly. Low, smooth buildings staggered up, gracefully for lack of a better word, if that was possible, out of the broken trees. The few buildings that looked mostly intact seemed to be gentle circles with flat tops. Whether that was by design or the effects of time, she couldn't tell. It was calming and creepy at the same time.

They headed down into a steep valley that ended abruptly in a rock wall. In the wall was a beautiful set of doors that looked like they had been carved directly into the rock. Professor Song held up a hand for them to stop.

It felt like they stood outside the door for ages, though it was probably only a few minutes. Jenny and the mercenaries stacked up the equipment on one side. Professor Song and the Doctor poured over the carving. Hamilton stood in the way. Violet also tried to look at the carving before giving up and retreating so that she wouldn't be in the way. She couldn't make heads or tails of them.

"Why don't we just blow the damn thing in," Hamilton asked finally.

"Because we don't know what's on the other side," the Doctor snapped. "It could be anything."

"Besides," Professor Song said, "I want to close it behind us. It might give us some shelter from the heat."

"Anything would be more sheltered than we are now," Hamilton grumbled.

"How do you put up with him?" the Doctor asked.

"I'm a teacher now. You learn to deal with idiots."

Hamilton grunted.

"Why don't you use the screwdriver?" Professor Song asked.

"In this heat, I think it would melt."

"You should put dampers on it, take care of that problem."

There was a paused. "Yeah, you're probably right." A heartbeat passed. "Ah-hah!" The Doctor traced a finger along a series of carvings. "These here."

"How do we active them?"

He frowned at the door for a moment. "Living flesh."

"What?" Professor Song's eyes widened. "Don't you dare!"

It was too late. In a single motion, he grabbed his glove in one hand, twisted and unlocked the seal, and pulled his hand free. His arm flashed along the pattern, almost too quickly to follow. The moment he was done, his hand shot back into the glove. He gave her a smile as the doors began to shutter and open, spreading wide.

Then he toppled over.


	4. Temples

**Author's Note: Well, on the bright side, I actually took my time this week and wrote the story out instead of trying to cram it in at the last moment. I even had a chance to proof-read it, so there shouldn't be any typos. Granted, this is all because a drunk driver decided to play chicken with my parked car and lost, so I haven't been sleeping well due to the stress of being car-less (poor Charlie, she doesn't deserve to be treated like that), plus dealing with insurance and other things that make me long for the bygone days of the 90's... But, hey, being awake meant I had time to write, so here we are.**

Violet had never expected to hear Professor Song's utter the words that came out of her mouth. They were the kind that had no business being repeated. Her teacher managed to catch the Doctor's shoulder as he fell, stopping him from falling helmet first onto the ground, which would have most likely cracked his face plate.

Jenny moved faster than Violet had expected. In a flash of movement, she pushed past the mousy young girl and rushed to his side. "Dad?" she exclaimed, panic evident in her voice.

Violet blinked. She never would have guessed.

"Help me," Professor Song snapped, still holding him by one shoulder. She grabbed his free arm and started to heft him up as Jenny scrambled to get his legs. "Bloody idiot," she growled. "Bloody, thick-headed, stupid man. Bring everything inside," she yelled as they passed the threshold.

She hadn't needed to waste her breath. The mercenaries had already picked up the crates and were moving forward. One of them nudged Violet, causing the girl to jump. Spurred into action, she scurried inside.

The moment the last of them had entered, the doors began to shake again and slowly swing shut. As the seam at the center disappeared, something silvery flashed over the doors. The room was filled with a sudden gust, and though Violet couldn't feel it through her suit, she could feel the pressure pushing her back.

Just as suddenly, the wind died and a new seam appeared as another set of doors she hadn't even noticed opened directly across the room from the first set.

"It's like an airlock," Hamilton muttered.

"That's because it is," Professor Song hefted the Doctor up again. She hurried through the new doorway. Beyond it looked like a temple. It had beautiful columns, climbing up towards a vaulted ceiling. The far wall was smooth and gleamed like polished marble, sloping outward till it seamlessly turned into the entryway to a corridor. In front of it was a set of stairs, and all around were tall chairs, standing proud against the ravages of time. And all of it was surrounded by ornate carved borders. Violet stopped and stared.

No one else did. Professor Song and Jenny carried the Doctor in and laid him up against a column. Hamilton scowled at him. The mercenaries started stacking the boxes up neatly near one of the side walls.

"What are the conditions in here?" Professor Song called out.

One of the mercenaries fished a tablet out of his satchel. "Thirty degrees, ma'am. Air looks old, but circulated. It's probably breathable."

"So warm and stale," she muttered. "It'll have to do." In a smooth, practiced motion, she unlatched the Doctor's helmet and pulled it off. She quickly did the same with her own before leaning over, holding her ear above his nose. At the same time, she pulled off her gloves. She straightened and placed two fingers on either side of his neck, just below his jaw. Finally, she placed one hand on his forehead.

"Idiot," she repeated.

Jenny managed to get helmet off with a great deal less grace than Professor Song had. Her dark hair cascaded down, hiding her expression from Violet. "Is he alright?"

"His heartrates are elevated, but his breathing is strong. He's not too much warmer than he should be. Probably a mild case of heat shock." She stood up. "He'll be fine, though no fault of his own."

Jenny lay on hand on the top of his head.

"Okay," Professor Song said, turning her attention back to the rest of them. "Let's set up the base camp right here. We might need a safe place to return too, and this looks as good as any."

The mercenaries started to crack open the crates. Professor Song walked over to Violet. "Are you all right?"

The mousy girl fumbled to get her helmet off before nodding meekly.

"Good." Professor Song opened a nearby crate and handed Violet a set of sealed jars and a chisel. "Take stone samples from every surface you can."

Violet managed to take them without dropping them. "Um, Professor?"

"Yes?"

"What was that silvery light on the backside of the door?"

Professor Song was digging through the crate again and didn't look up. "A sealer of some kind, probably some sort of energy field. It's a near vacuum outside, simple rock wouldn't be able to keep the air in here."

"Oh." Violet paused. "It's not going to shut off, is it?"

Professor Song flashed her a grin. "No, I wouldn't think so. It's worked just fine for several billion years, why break now?" She finished fetching a camera out of the crate, nodded encouragingly at Violet, and walked off to start documenting.

It took a surprisingly short time to collect samples from the three walls, the sloped marble, the floor, stairs, and chairs. The ceiling was far too high for the little girl to even try and reach, and she was far too nervous to do anything at all to either set of doors.

The mercenaries were organized remarkably, and finished setting up the camp before Violet was even half way done. She was shocked at how much of the equipment they had been carrying was simply basic camping things. Bed rolls, lights, stoves, food stuffs, even a rudimentary communications array with its own tiny dish. By the time that the mousy girl had rejoined her teacher, the mercenaries were all lounging in a state that looked half relaxed and half alert.

Professor Song was slowly running the camera along the fancy borders of one of the walls. Violet paused behind her, uncertain of what to say. "They're a very pretty pattern."

"They're not a pattern," Professor Song said, her voice subdued by concentration.

"They're not?"

"No, not regular enough for that."

"So, they're random?"

"No, they're too regular for that."

Violet was thoroughly confused. "What?"

Professor Song spared her a glance and another grin. "They're letters. It's a story."

Violet looked closer at them. "So it's a language."

"A very old one." Professor Song straightened. "So old, I have no idea what it says. I've never seen it before. Even if there is a modern language that descended from this one, it's been so long, the changes would make them unrecognizable to each other." A faint groan reached their ears. Professor Song rolled her eyes. "Finally."

The Doctor was staring ahead groggily. Jenny's look of worry had been replaced with a look of extreme amusement. Professor Song planted herself right in front of his vision, her arms crossed. "Well, sweetie, how are you feeling?"

"Well done."

"Yes, well, that's what happened when you're a stupid idiot who likes to endanger his life on hunches."

He actually grinned at that. "Yeah, but they're my hunches. That's got to be about the same as an archeologist's hypothesis."

"I really hate you."

"No, you don't." He pushed himself up onto his elbows. "How long have I been out?"

"About half an hour."

"Ah." He finished pulling himself into a seat position, before pressing his thumb between his eyebrows. "I get the feeling this headache isn't going anywhere."

Professor Song let out a snort. "Sweetie, you should count yourself lucky that a headache is all you have."

"Me, lucky?" He waved a hand dismissively. "I make my own luck."

She rolled her eyes again. "Come on," she said, holding a hand out. With a groan, he let himself be heaved upward. "I need you to look at something for me." Violet couldn't help but notice that once he was on his feet, her teacher didn't let go.

"You know, there was this amazing movie once, gave us a warning about all work and no play."

"I'll make sure to keep you away from the any axes."

Violet made eye contact with Jenny. "Do you know what they're talking about?" she asked softly.

The other girl just shrugged.

Professor Song led the Doctor to the closest wall. She motioned at the border. With a grunt, the Doctor kneeled down.

"Do you recognize it?" she asked.

He shook his head slowly. "The TARDIS isn't translating it either. I suppose that as old as she is, this is much older." His eyes narrowed. "I know this. I've seen this somewhere before." He pressed his thumb in between his eyes again and growled softly. "Where? Where was it? Why can't I remember?"

"No ideas?"

"Not yet."

Professor Song sighed. She fished the camera out of her satchel, where it had ended up during her, well, Violet wasn't sure what exactly to call what her teacher and the Doctor did. "Here," she said, handing it out to Violet. "I want you to get a record of every border in the room. Remember, keep the camera steady and move slowly. There isn't much point if we can't make them out."

Violet nodded anxiously.

"Is there anything I can do?" Jenny asked. She seemed to be keeping herself at a set distance from Professor Song, neither too close nor too far.

"Yes. Something is circulating the air in here, but there don't seem to be any vents. Can you find out where the breeze is coming from?"

Violet moved carefully, making sure each and every step she took was smooth, fretting over bouncing the camera too much. She had made her way around most of the room, and was currently trying to navigate the stairs as she caught the Doctor's low voice, almost imperceptible.

"River, I need you to answer a question for me."

Violet spared them a glace. The Doctor was sitting in front of the wall, legs cross, elbows on his knees, chin on his knuckles. He seemed to be staring ahead blankly. Professor Song was perhaps two steps away, crouched down.

"Oh, do you now?"

"Yes. River, I need you to answer me. No 'spoilers', no hiding the truth. I need you to promise me."

Violet noticed her teacher stiffen slightly out of the corner of her eye.

"You know I can't promise that."

"People's lives are at risk," he snapped, his voice cold and harsh. "If anyone will know the answer, you will."

Professor Song didn't answer him.

"River, where's the Valeyard?"

Violet almost missed the reply. "I can't tell you."

"River-"

"I can't. You told me not to."

"And now I'm telling you to."

"It doesn't work that way."

On the very edges of Violet's vision, the Doctor stood up and took a step toward Professor Song. "River, this isn't the game. It's not an adventure. This is the Valeyard, you have to know what that means. River, people are going to die unless you tell-"

"Don't you dare," she hissed. "Don't you even dare! You're right, Doctor, I was there. I know exactly what happens, so don't you dare try and guilt me into this. I know who dies that day Doctor, god do I know it. You're not the only one who's lost their family, so don't you dare say a word."

It was the Doctor's turn to be silent.

After a moment, Professor Song continued, her voice measured and controlled. "You told me not to say a word. But not just you. The you I've seen do so many impossible things, things that make the _Byzantium_, the Pandorica, the Silence, look like nothing. Things so much greater against so much smaller odds. If you think you can just override that man, that man I've seen do the impossible, then you're solely mistaken." There was a pause. "On the very first day I met you, when you just appeared out of the sky, you knew everything. Everything. And at the end of that day, after we had barely made it out alive, you looked me in the eye and you told me that we'd have such adventures. That we'd see so many things, but I couldn't tell you. I could never tell you, because things had to happen in the right order, and if they didn't, then everything ends. Everything ends.

"You don't know how important you are, Doctor. You don't know how much rides on your very existence. So I'm sorry, I really am, but I can't tell you. I wish I could, with every fiber of my being, but I can't. I really can't."

Silence again. Finally, the Doctor mumbled something.

Professor Song let out a weak laugh. "You don't even know what you're apologizing for."

To say that Violet was spooked by the exchange would have been an understatement. Who was the Doctor? Not just a man who made her teacher, this amazing, unshakeable rock, tremble, but a being who the everything relied on? And her teacher, the woman who needed no one, who was she really? They had mentioned Stormcage, the highest security prison planet in existence. Who had she been?

By the time the mousy young girl had finished recording all the borders, Hamilton was starting to get impatient. "Professor Song," he said, tapping his foot, "there is more to this temple than just this room. Might I suggest we get on with it?"

"It's best to be thorough," she answered.

"Probably not much point in waiting longer," the Doctor said. "I still have no idea where I've seen this writing before. We have all of our samples, we might as well continue."

"My point exactly," Hamilton bristled.

"I'm sure it was," Professor Song returned with an insincere smile.

"Where's Jenny?" the Doctor asked.

There was a sudden scraping noise and Jenny seemed to appear out of nowhere, sliding down one of the columns. The Doctor gave her an incredulous look.

"I found the vents."

"How did you get up there?"

"I climbed."

He looked up the pillar. "That's got to be thirty meters. You climbed that?"

"Yeah."

"A pillar.

"Yeah."

"B-but how?"

Jenny shrugged. "Just, climbed."

"It's a pillar," he sputtered. "It's-it's-it's smooth. And pillar-ly. The-there's nothing to hold onto. How- No. Better question. Why did you climb the pillar?"

"I was looking for the vents. They're at the top of the pillars."

"But what possessed you to-" He stopped, pressing his thumb between his eyes. "I think my headache is coming back. Never mind."


	5. Tribulations

**Author's Note: Wow, I am really sorry about skipping last week. I really don't have a valid excuse, but hey, let me give you a non-valid one. So, yeah, I had one of those terrible writer blocks where I knew what I wanted to say, but I wasn't sure HOW I wanted to say it. Last Tuesday came and went, and it was being aggravating. That annoying thing about it is that when that happens, you lose you motivation to write. But, hey, at least I'm here, finally, late, once again, but done, none-the-less.**

**Also, yes, if you want, you can check back on some of the older stories. To help me get through this, I went back and updated elements of Season ? in line with the canon from Season 6. Specifically, last chapter and chapter 1 of Station of DoooOOOOooom.  
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The walls of the hallway were smooth. Violet actually pulled off her glove as they walked to touch them. They were that rare kind of smooth, the kind that felt both soft and hard. Not polished, her fingers didn't catch nor did they leave smudges. She imagined it felt very much like the soft underpart of a well muscled arm, not that she had even felt the soft underpart of such an arm. The rock was surprisingly smooth cool despite the generally warm air, but not cold.

"What kind of rock is this?" she asked.

Professor Song, who was directly ahead of her, shrugged. "I've never seen it before. It looks like marble, but the texture is wrong."

The hallway was small, but not uncomfortable so. The group moved two by two, with Professor Song and the Doctor in front, followed by Jenny and Violet. Behind them was Hamilton, the only person by himself. The mercenaries trialed behind, pair off into four rows.

"I'm more curious where the light's coming from," the Doctor said.

It was a more than valid question. The entire hall was lit in a dim, pale blue. There were any fixtures, which was probably a good thing since the ceiling was low enough that several of the taller mercenaries would have had to duck. It wasn't coming from the walls or the floors either. It just seemed to appear.

"Jenny, are you sure there were vents on the tops of the columns?" Professor Song asked.

The girl next to Violet nodded. "They were narrow slats that went around them."

"Did you feel any air coming out of them?"

Jenny paused for a moment then shook her head.

"So, we have vents that don't blow air and light that comes from nowhere," the Doctor muttered. Then he grinned. "Got to love it when the laws of physics decided to stop working. You also have to wonder why."

"Well, it is Kailum," Professor Song said.

"Ah, yes, Kailum, the Lost Planet of the Gods. Have to wonder about a race that makes claims like that about their home."

One of Professor Song's eyebrows went up. "This coming from the Lord of Time?"

"Well, yeah, okay, that's kind of different."

"Sure it is. This place is supposed to be a lot more than just their home."

"Is it?"

Professor Song rolled her eyes. "Did you even read the Tome?"

"I glanced at it."

"Meaning you opened it up to a page for long enough to figure out what it was."

"Fine," he said, fishing the old book out of his satchel, "I'll read it right now." He flipped through the book, the old pages fluttering as they whipped by. He stopped and looked up at Professor Song. "No," he said, his voice slightly incredulous.

"Yes."

"River, this planet is not the God Maker."

"Why not?"

"Because it's," he hesitated, "it's, not. It can't be. It's impossible."

"Says who?"

The Doctor sputtered. "Says me!"

"Sweetie," she said, smiling again, "you are very smart and you know a lot of things, but you're hardly the ultimate authority in the universe."

"I'm as close as anyone can get!" he shot back.

"The point is," Professor Song continued, as if he hadn't said anything, "this planet is so old, there's even a possibility it was the first one to form in the galaxy. We're talking about a time when the universe was very different than from today. For all we know, this could give someone the powers of a god. Or, it could have given the powers of a god back in that day, but today would have no effect. Or it could have been an entire sham back then, but now, for some reason, grants power beyond our understanding. At the very least, sweetie, the artifacts and technology here are the oldest and most valuable ever discovered. The questions they could answer could unlock so many things."

She flashed him another grin, a mischievous glint in her eye and something else that Violet still wasn't used to seeing in her teacher. "I seem to remember an old man who looked remarkably well for his age telling me once that the universe was a question, just waiting for an answer. And in the end, that's why we're here."

The Doctor grunted. He held up the Tome and waved it at her. "It's one thing to look for the answers, but to do so based on the bullocks in this thing, that is insanity."

Professor Song stopped suddenly, causing Violet to run into her. The girl flushed, but her teacher didn't seem to notice. "I forgot who jaded you could get in this regeneration," she murmured.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means exactly what I said." She placed a hand on his cheek. "I know you've had it rough so far. I know that you look ahead and all you can see is a bloody war fought against the person you fear the most. I'm sorry I can't help you, I know how serious you think it is to seek it. I'm sorry I can't promise you it won't get worse, so much worse, and I'm sorry there will be so much pain. But right here, right now, I don't need the mighty warrior or the Oncoming Storm. I need the Doctor, the man who delights in finding out why. Even if that book is completely wrong, you know as well I as do that prophesies and legends do just start for no reason. This might not be the God Maker, but it'll answer so many questions. So, please. Just please."

The Doctor stared down at the Tome and sighed.

"What's the hold up?" Hamilton yelled. "We need to keep moving!"

"Thank you," Professor Song said, "I knew that." It was rare for Violet to hear actual annoyance in her voice.

The hallway stretched onward for a very long time. Violet's feet began to ache before they reached the end, particularly her left heel. For the most part, they were all silent. The mercenaries had said a word that Violet had heard yet, and Jenny seemed busy watching everyone with obvious interest. Hamilton complained more, something Professor Song completely ignored. She called out observations from time to time to the record, mostly about the quality of the rock in the tunnel. The Doctor didn't say a word.

Finally, the corridor abruptly ended in a room. While no where as large as the first, it was still quite spacious. Here, the tall chairs were gone, and instead there was a series of low, uncomfortable looking benches. There weren't any pillars or boarders of writings on the walls. Instead, the walls were bare, save for the farthest. There was arch that opened to another room. Beautiful designs ran along the outside of the arch. Letters and words of the forgotten language sprawled across the rest of the far wall.

The Mercenaries quickly took the lead, spreading out into the room, before taking up positions very similar to the one they had taken earlier. Professor Song immediately approached the wall, camera out, murmuring notes and narrations as she went.

Violet paused a few feet away, staring at the writing. "I wonder what it says."

"Instructions," the Doctor said suddenly, making her jump.

It took her a moment to recover her composure. "Instructions for what?"

"For the test. To reach the end of the temple, we have to prove that we are smart enough to handle the powers of a god." He paused for a moment. "Rather silly actually, but I suppose it easier than testing to make sure we're mature enough to handle the powers."

"How do you know that?" Hamilton cut in. "Have you figured out how to read the writing?"

"Nope, not a clue." He waved the Tome again. "But that's what it says in here."

"I thought it was a load of bullocks?" Jenny asked, giving her father an amused look.

"Probably," he answered with a shrug. "But River's right, which is not something I say often enough. I live for places like these, places that defy my understanding of the universe. It keeps life fresh. I shouldn't let everything that been going wrong lately cloud my judgment and close my mind. Otherwise, I'll start becoming like him. I'm-"

The Doctor hesitated. "I suppose that I'm-"

Another pause.

"Hell, I'm sorry," he finally said, scowling at the floor.

"What do you know," Professor Song said, joining them. "He's finally growing up."

The Doctor stuck his tongue out at her.

"Is there anything else we need to do here?" Hamilton asked crankily. "Or do you two need to keep flirting?"

"Are we flirting?" the Doctor asked mildly.

"Us?" Professor Song said with mock confusion. "No, we'd never do such a thing."

Hamilton's face darkened and his temple throbbed.

"I've finished recording the words on the wall, there wasn't much."

"Then might I suggest we keep moving?"

"Yes, you may suggest it."

Hamilton opened his mouth, closed it angrily, and stormed off to stand near the mercenaries.

The Doctor approached the arch, studying it.

"What is it?" Professor Song asked.

"What?" He glanced back her at her for a moment. "No, nothing."

Professor Song moved forward, passing underneath the arch. One of the mercenaries hurried to keep up with her. The rest followed in suit, Violet tagging along behind. She paused at the arch, looking back.

The Doctor hadn't moved. Consequently, neither had Jenny.

"Is anything wrong?" the mousy girl asked after a moment.

He took a deep breath and nodded at Jenny. "No, nothing," he repeated as she started forward. The three of the crossed the threshold at the same time.

And a door came slamming down.

The sound nearly gave Violet a heart attack. Jenny, however, simply turned around and pressed her weight against it. Nothing happened.

"No going back," the Doctor murmured. "Why do they never let us go back?"

"You knew that was going to happen?" Violet managed to choke out.

"No, no," he assured her. "I had a feeling it might, but I hardly knew."

"And you didn't say anything?"

He shrugged. "It wouldn't have mattered. There wasn't any other direction to take." He strode ahead into the center of the room.

Violet, still trying to catch her breath, looked around. The room was relatively small, at least compared to the earlier ones. It was nearly bare as well, no patterns or writing. The only thing she could see on the wall was a circular hole sitting next to a seal arch identical to the one they had just passed. In the center of the room, there were three, for the lack of a better word, bricks sticking up out of a raised, well, table, for lack of a better word.

As she approached, she could see that one of the bricks had a triangular shape, another was a rectangle, and the final was a cylinder.

"Looks like it starts easy," the Doctor murmured.

There was a snort from an unfamiliar voice. One of the mercenaries, the one who had lost his ear, was rolling his eyes. "Sorry, I know I ain't supposed to talk, but this is one of the almighty tests. Putting a round peg in a round hole?"

The Doctor shrugged. "You have to start somewhere. They might have figured out that someone could come along later that didn't know anything about their language, so they're starting from something anyone can understand."

The mercenary rolled his eyes. "So what happens if I try and put the square one in?"

The Doctor glanced at him. "I wouldn't."

The one eared mercenary picked up the rectangle brick anyway. Another mercenary, the one with the deep frown lines, shot him a glare, but he ignored it. Casually, he brought the brick up to the whole.

The sudden flash of light caught Violet off guard. It took her a moment to recover. By the time the spots disappeared, the Doctor and the frowning mercenary were kneeling over the one-eared mercenary, who was sprawled across the floor. The Doctor held a hand under the side of the mercenaries jaw. He pulled his hand away slowly, and blank look on his face.

"Well, we know the first instruction. Don't answer any questions wrong."


	6. Trials

**Author's Note: Wow... I'm really sorry, I really am. I wish I could give some awesome reason to why I am a MONTH late posting. Something about saving the world or climbing a mountain... Maybe crashing something, although if I hurt poor Charlie or Azura (my car and motorcycle), I could never forgive myself... Nope, nothing like that. I missed the first week due to a camping trip that didn't get me back till Wednesday.**

**And the proceeded to suffer from writer's block for the next three... And not even the kind of writer's block where you can't think of something to write, oh no. It was the kind where you know what you want to say, but for the ever-loving life of you, you can't figure out HOW to say it.**

**Quite fortunately, I'm should be passed that. So, even though this chapter was so late, even posted after midnight the day afterwards, I'll be able to get back on schedule. There's going to be another chapter and an epilogue to go with this story. In case you forgot what's going on, due to the length of my... hiatus... feel free to go back and read the earlier stories.  
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It took several moments for it to sink in. Violet stared at the mercenary, the same one who had sat next to her on the way down, sprawled on the ground. The realization hit suddenly and she felt her knees go weak. She stumbled to one side and immediately began retching.

She wasn't sure how long she spent there, head against the wall, heaving. Long after her stomach had lost everything it had held. Her sides hurt. Her head hurt. Everything seemed to be crushing down on her.

When she finally got a hold of herself, she found she was no long against the wall at all. Instead, she was across the room, sitting down and leaning across Professor Song's lap. Her teacher was running her fingers though the mousy girl's hair. Violet slowly pushed herself upright.

"Are you alright?" Professor Song asked quietly.

She nodded numbly.

Violet glanced around the room. The first thing she noticed was that the arch was open. The cylinder brick was sticking out of the hole. The next thing she noticed was that the dead mercenary had been moved. He was against a wall now. It looked like someone had draped a spare sleeping tarp over him. The final thing that dawned on her was that the room was mostly empty. Besides herself and her teacher, there were only two of the mercenaries, the frowning faced one and a young woman whose hair barely fell past her ears.

Violet felt her face grow warm. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"Its fine," Professor Song said, brushing the girl's hair with her fingers one more time before standing up. She offered a hand to Violet, who took it silently.

"Seeing someone die the first time can be rough," the frowning mercenary said. "I've seen highly trained soldiers lose it when it happens." He nodded to the woman next to him who fished a pack out of her satchel.

"Eat this," she said, handing the pack to Violet. "It should help settle your stomach."

Violet opened it up to find several long crackers. She lifted one up and tried to take a bite out of it. Saying it was difficult would be putting it mildly. The cracker finally snapped and she found she had to concentrate very hard on chewing.

"Do you have water?" the woman asked.

Violet nodded, not wanting to speak and spew crumbs everywhere.

"Make sure to drink some regularly." The woman closed her satchel. "If you start feeling weak, faint, or dizzy, make sure to say something." She nodded at the other mercenary and turned to leave.

Violet managed to swallow some of the dry crackers. "Thank you."

The woman paused and she glanced back at Violet as if she was slightly surprised. "You're welcome."

After she had left, Violet's eyes drifted back to the body hidden beneath the tarp. "What was his name?" she asked finally.

"Baker," the frowning mercenary said quietly.

She hesitated. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too." The mercenary paused. "He was always thick headed. Good in a fight though. That's all he needed to be."

Professor Song helped Violet up slowly. The mercenary nodded at them and began heading toward the arch.

"Excuse me," Violet said, her voice soft.

The mercenary paused and looked back at her.

She took a deep breath. "What's your name?"

One of the mercenary's eyebrows rose slowly. Violet felt her face grow warm again. "It's just, I never knew his name. I don't know any of your names. I never even bothered to try and learn them."

"You don't need to know our names," the mercenary said. "It's easier that way, the less you know about us. Just in case."

She hesitated. "Still."

The mercenary shook his head. "No, I suppose your one of those rare people that will feel terrible no matter what." He paused. "My names Henry."

"Thank you, Henry."

He made a noise that was somewhere between a snort and a chuckle, before heading through the arch.

Violet glanced at Professor Song. "I'm the only one who got sick, aren't I."

"Yes."

"I'm sorry I'm so weak."

Her teacher gave her a soft smile and placed one arm around her shoulder. "Compassion isn't weakness. Some people would argue that the rest of us are the weaker since we didn't feel as strongly."

The room on the other side of the arch was the exact opposite than the one before. It was enormous. The arch opened out onto a platform with a pair beautiful staircases that descended down in lazy spirals. Beneath them was a maze. At least, Violet thought it looked kind of like a maze. From what she could tell, there were no dead ends. Instead the lines crisscrossed and doubled back on each other, while other curved gracefully around and through them. Dim light seem to sit at regular intervals, bright enough to cast long shadows in the maze itself but so dim that she couldn't see the ceiling.

The platform was surprisingly roomy, larger than the last room simply by itself. Hamilton stood by one staircase, looking down and frowning, tapping his foot impatiently. Two mercenaries, one of them the woman and the other a hulking man who looked like a human tank, stood next to the other stairs. The Doctor seemed to be busy examining a cube or something. It was centered perfectly in the middle of the platform and spanned a meter long in every direction. Jenny was kneeling nearby, staring at the cube as well, but her eyes had that partially glazed look of someone who was extremely bored. Violet glanced to her right as she passed through the arch to spot Henry leaning up against the wall there.

Professor Song stepped past Violet as the girl paused in the archway. She stopped a few steps away from the Doctor and crossed her arms.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" the Doctor replied, not looking up.

Professor Song let out an exasperated sigh. "Have you figured it out yet?"

"Eh, no. Not yet."

Violet took a few steps closer to get a good look at the cube. It was actually made of dozens, maybe even close to a hundred, smaller cubes, each only a few centimeters long and wide. They were packed in tightly but were still far enough away to give the larger cube a tiled or mosaic look. Carved into the side facing her was a perfect triangle. She leaned to the left a bit to look at another side, only to find it had a square cared into it.

"Aw, sweetie, starting to lose some of that creativity and intellectual drive in your old age?"

The Doctor snorted. "My creativity and intellectual drive are still absolutely perfect, thank you very much. It just doesn't make sense. What in the world does a cube made of up of smaller cubes, that has a circle, a triangle, a square, and a pentagon carved into it have to do with that." He waved his hands in agitation toward the maze. "It doesn't make any sense!"

"Still, after all this time, you have nothing?"

The Doctor grunted.

"Have you even tried anything?"

"Oh, yes, because that's smart. We're in a test that kills you if you get the answer wrong, so let's go with trial and error."

"So you've just been sitting here?"

"If you have such a problem with the way I solve things, why did you invite me along!" he snapped.

Violet glanced. "Um, excuse me?"

The Doctor turned to give her slightly annoyed look. He closed his eyes for a heartbeat and took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, the look was gone. Probably hidden. "Yes?"

"If you haven't done anything, then where are the other mercenaries?"

The Doctor frowned. "What?"

"There are four missing."

He looked around wildly. "But, when-" His eyes narrowed and he very slowly turned his attention to Hamilton. "Where are they?"

The large blond man drew himself up proudly. "You were wasting too much time, and since you were so absorbed in playing with your little puzzle, I took care of it."

The Doctor's eyes flashed and nervous chill ran down Violet's spine. "You idiot," he hissed. "You thick skulled idiot, you've sent them to their deaths. Get them back here now!" he roared the last sentence.

Hamilton seemed taken aback, and scowled after a moment. "They are very expensive mercenaries. I'm sure if they're worth their price, they can avoid some simple death traps."

A scream drifted up to them. Hamilton's eyes went wide.

"Report," Henry barked, pressing the communicator at his collar.

There wasn't any answer.

"Is it possible they didn't hear you?" Professor Song asked softly.

Henry shook his head. "If they didn't respond, then they're not alive to do so."

Violet felt her knees grow weak suddenly. She braced herself with an arm against the cube.

"Drink some water," the woman mercenary behind her said.

Violet shook her head weakly. "Not thirsty."

"Drink," the woman ordered.

Violet fumbled with her pack and drew out her water. After a few gulps, feeling started to return to her. She glanced at the woman. "Thank you." She paused. "I don't know your name."

The woman smiled softly. "Sara." She nodded behind her. "This is Bruce."

The tank standing next to her nodded. Now that she was actually looking at him, Violet noticed his eyes were remarkably intelligent.

"Drink some more," Sara ordered.

"I'm fine now."

"It's won't do anyone any good if you pass out again," Bruce rumbled, his voice sounding far too calming and peaceful to be a mercenary's.

Violet dropped her gaze and heat returned to her cheeks, but she took another drink. She felt a hand on her shoulder and realized that Professor Song was there. Her teacher guided her away from the cube as the Doctor settled back down in front.

"So what now?" Hamilton asked in an acidic voice. "We just wait."

"No, you just wait," the Doctor answered. "I'm going to solve this."

Hamilton almost growled. "Enough." He stabbed a finger at Henry. "Get down there and find us a route."

"No."

Hamilton's eyes went wide. "Excuse me?"

"I said 'no'." Henry crossed his arms.

"Are you forgetting who is paying you?"

"I remember it very clearly. I remember our contract too. My men and I are here to lay down our lives for yours. There is nothing about you getting to send us off to die because you're a little impatient. Our contract is broken." Henry turned to the Doctor. "Can you get us out of here alive?"

"Of course."

"Wait a moment," Hamilton snarled. "You can't do this!"

Henry raised his rifle before Violet had a chance to even blink. "Listen very well," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "because you have two options. One, you can shut up, wait, and live long enough to pay me double for every one of my men whose lives you just tossed away, or two, I can extract my payment right here, right now, in blood."

Hamilton's mouth gaped. "Yo-you can't," he sputtered.

"You broke our contract. I can do a lot of things."

"Oh please," the Doctor said, his voice irritable. He didn't even bother to turn his head two the other two men. "Put the gun away, his life is hardly worth it."

For several heartbeats, nothing happened. Then, very slowly, Henry lowered the rifle. "Yeah, I suppose you're right." The mercenary turned sharply and returned to the wall he had been leaning on earlier.

Time stretched onward and Violet eventually lost track of it. She tried to help in figuring out the puzzle, but had no more luck than the Doctor was having. Eventually, she just found herself staring at the top, tracing the lines of the grid back and forth.

"Well?" Professor Song finally asked.

The Doctor scowled at her. "You are very welcome to try and figure it out. Think of it like one of those puzzles you love so much."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm an archeologist. I work in languages, history, lore, not shapes. That would be a mathematician."

"Well, too bad we don't have one of those along."

Professor Song shifted her gaze to Violet. "What about you, dear? Your old major was Maths."

"Oh?" the Doctor said, turning to look at her as well. "Any ideas?"

Violet's cheeks immediately burst into flame. She shook her head. "Not really."

"Not really? Nothing at all."

"No, I was just-" She hesitated. "Just, thinking about nothing."

"Really? That's quite impressive. In all my travels, I've never met someone who could actually think about nothing."

"Well, no, it's-" Her face grew even warmer, if that were possible. "It's just whenever I see tiles or anything like that, I always think of a graph."

"Ah, graphing." The Doctor shrugged. "That can be a great way to spend a Saturday night. Well, it can be, if you throw in a bit of alcohol." He returned his attention to the cube for a moment, before letting his shoulders sag. He stood up and stretched, glancing around the room with a very deep sigh.

Which stopped suddenly halfway through.

The Doctor's head spun to stare at the top of the cube. It spun back to look out at the room. The second time, his entire body spun as he turned to look at the cube. "No!" he declared. "No, no, no, no, I couldn't possible have been that thick." He turned back to the maze. "How did I miss that? How did I miss that?"

"Sweetie, I know you enjoy being clever, but would you mind telling us what exactly you just figured out?" Professor Song asked in a deceptively sugary voice.

"She's right," the Doctor said. He reached into a pocket and drew out a measure stick that, in all honesty, was far too long to have fit in there. The same pocket also produced a thick black marker. "All this time, it was staring me in the face, and I just didn't see it." He gestured out toward the maze with the stick while also taking four large steps to the edge of the platform. "Those lights, what do you notice about them?" He peered over the edge for a moment before turning around and heading over to the other side.

"They're dim," Professor Song said with a shrug, "but they're placed regularly enough so that we can still see the entire maze."

"They're not just placed regularly, they're placed exactly." The Doctor hurried back to the cube. He pulled the cap off the marker with his teeth and began roughly coloring several of the smaller cubes. "Each light out there is a point, an intersection, X meets Y. And it makes sense. You're testing someone's intelligence, so you start with shape recognition. So, where do you go from there? Geometry. But how do test for that without numbers, because you can't use numbers. How are they supposed to recognize them? How do you know they're even use the same numbering system? They could use base twelve, maybe base seven, or, just to mix it up, they might even just use binary." He finished inking in an eight by eight square. "So, you graph it." He quickly drew horizontal through the two cubes on the opposite sides of the square.

He turned to look at everyone with a grin. "Because no where or when you go, people who use advanced mathematics use graphs. They might not always use straight lines, they may not even use numbers, but they always, always use some kind of graph. And look." He held measuring stick against the grid, so that it crossed one lined cube, through the inked square, and finally the other lined cube. "This is the platform and both sets of stairs, plotted use those lights. And have you noticed it yet?" He lowered the stick to the shape carved below. "It's the exact length of the base of the triangle. Look down below and you'll discover two paths that leave the stairs at the exact same angle to give us this." The Doctor quickly drew two lines. "That meet right here in this four way intersection. And does anyone notice what's special about the other two paths in that intersection."

Professor Song stepped up the edge and looked out. When she turned back, she was wearing a very large smile. "They're curved."

"Exactly!" The Doctor laid the stick across the circle, measuring the diameter. "And if you follow that around, what do you get?" He measure out the diameter again on the top of the cube, starting from the circle. "A perfect circle." His hand whipped around, drawing exactly that.

"But what's after that?" Professor Song asked, looking back out across the maze.

"Look at two-hundred and sixty-eight degrees. The intersection there branches off into our pentagon. And that meets up with our square, whose top line runs right alongside that back wall, all leading up to what's located in that upper right corner."

Professor Song's eyes were gleaming. "The exit."

"Exactly!"

"Doctor," Henry said quietly, "what exactly is it?"

"It's a map. In a maze with no dead ends but so many death traps, it shows us the only way out."

"Are you certain?"

"Oh yes."

The mercenary looked from the Doctor then to Professor Song. "Then let's go."

"Wait a moment," Professor Song said, pulling out her tablet. "It's one thing when we're looking at it from above, but let me make sure that we can actually find our way once we're down there." She held it above the cube for a moment. "Ready."

"Good," the Doctor said, grinning widely. "So, let's-" He paused. "You know, I still haven't come up with a good charge yet. Allons-y is over and done. Run just lacks the proper connotations."

"Sweetie," Professor Song said from the top of the stairs. "You can think of it later, let's go."

The Doctor sighed.


End file.
